


Your Faith, My Fervor

by doublecheckyoself



Series: Omega/Beta Malec [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Magnus Bane, Dubious Science, Established Relationship, Fertility Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Idk i haven't decided what other relationships there are yet, Knotting, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Nausea, Nesting, Omega Alec Lightwood, Omega Verse, POV Alternating, Planned Pregnancy, Pregnancy, Pregnant Alec Lightwood, Rating May Change, Runes, Scenting, Sex, Vomiting, alec has a hard time, but magnus is there for him, they try really hard to get pregnant actually lmfao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublecheckyoself/pseuds/doublecheckyoself
Summary: Alec is happy with his life.  So happy, in fact, that he's considering something that he's never considered before: carrying his mate's child.  There's only one problem with this, which is that Magnus, like all warlocks, is infertile....They can find a way around that, right?
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Omega/Beta Malec [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806238
Comments: 13
Kudos: 126





	Your Faith, My Fervor

**Author's Note:**

> As always, read the tags before you read the fic! Don't like, don't read, please.
> 
> Not sure what my update schedule will be like, but I'm pretty excited for this fic so we'll see what I can do, haha.

The night is sweet and gentle, filled with a light breeze that cools the sticky sweat on Alec’s skin. He’s lounging with Magnus, his beta’s scent marking his body, their limbs twined together as Alec nuzzles up against Magnus’s neck. It’s good. So, _so_ incredibly good. Magnus’s smoky, satiated scent is like sitting at a warm fire, and Alec is blissed out, post-coital euphoria casting a haze over his mind.

This is probably the reason why he doesn’t realize the words are on their way out of his mouth until he’s speaking them aloud.

“Have you ever thought about…”

Magnus hums a question as Alec snaps his mouth shut, mortified at what he nearly said. It’s one thing to think it, late at night and in the privacy of his own mind. It’s _quite another_ to bring it up with Magnus, knowing full well what that question will do to him.

“Babe? What is it?” Magnus asks, stroking a hand up Alec’s back. 

“It’s nothing. Lost my train of thought,” Alec says. He swallows—he knows he’s not a good liar, but maybe this time Magnus won’t notice. Maybe Magnus won’t call him out on the way his heart has kicked up in speed in his chest, how he’s tensed just slightly in his beta’s arms. The bliss is seeping from him, and he lets it go with a sigh—it’s what he deserves for nearly asking Magnus if he’s ever thought about _having babies_ , of all goddamn things.

Magnus has clearly noticed, if the questioning hum is any indication. Still, Alec has made up his mind—he’s not going to say it. Because, admittedly, he might not be able to help it if his life is stable enough and he’s happy enough that for the first time ever he’s feeling that age-old omega instinct to carry a child. What he _can_ help is to make sure he never says it out loud. Magnus is infertile—all warlocks are. Alec won’t ask for something that Magnus can’t give. 

He can, and he will, keep his damn mouth _shut_.

***

Magnus isn’t sure when it started. If it came before or after their mating bites, if it came slowly or all at once, if it has, perhaps, always been here, everpresent. It is _impossible_ to tell where or when it came… hell, he’s not even sure what it _is_.

Because it’s not that Alec isn’t happy—his scent is so clean and crisp, mingling nearly constantly with Magnus’s, that they turn heads when they’re out. Knowing that he’s made his Alexander so happy is _intoxicating_ , and Magnus takes every chance he can to press his nose directly to that amazing scent. All the same, however, there is something there, some _tension_ between the two of them that makes Alec bite his tongue in their bed late at night, when they had previously been able to share anything, any secret, little or big, that came to mind.

It makes Magnus doubt, sometimes, that he’s actually responsible for Alec’s happiness. Would Alec be this happy with Underhill? With Jace? With anyone? Maybe being allowed to be out and proud is the only thing he needs, and Magnus is just an accessory to that. 

Sex… sex assuages these doubts. For a little while, at least. But not for long. Because then they’re laying in bed together and Magnus can hear Alec’s mind whirring and he knows, he _knows_ there’s something there that Alec refuses to say, and whatever it is lies heavy in their bed with them until Alec falls asleep in his arms, the shape of ‘it’ breathing in Magnus’s ear as he tries to hold his omega tight. Maybe, if he holds tight enough, ‘it’ won’t be able to slip between them. Maybe ‘it’ will get the idea that Magnus isn’t going to let go, no matter what.

“Are you going to pick something or just stand there?”

Magnus starts. He’s been staring into the glass case in front of him for… a while now, he realizes. The shop attendants around him are waiting patiently on his choice—Ragnor, at his side, is waiting _not_ -so-patiently. 

Magnus breathes out, trailing his fingers along the edge of the case. “…I don’t see anything that jumps out at me,” he says. He’s not sure what he was thinking, really—he’s not going to get Alec to talk about whatever is on his mind by throwing gems and jewels at him. Alec wouldn’t wear them, anyway. Well, he would, but only to please Magnus. Magnus sighs.

“You’ve been sighing all day,” Ragnor says, blunt to the very end. 

Lips twisted in a wry smile, Magnus guides his dear friend out of the shop. “It’s barely ten in the morning, that’s hardly ‘all day’.”

“Might as well be,” Ragnor says. He allows Magnus to link their elbows together, standing tall and letting the crowds part around him. They may not be able to see the green of his skin, nor the horns twisting back from his crown, but his demeanor does wonders for parting the sea of people. He seems disinclined to address this further—now that he’s made it known that he’s aware there is something wrong, the ball is in Magnus’s court.

Magnus purses his lips, wondering what he should say. ‘My mate is happy but not happy enough’ sounds… trifling. The thing that is wrong isn’t even _wrong_ so much as it’s _not-right_ , and Magnus doesn’t know what to do with that.

At least he can tell Ragnor as much. Ragnor may be stoic and generally humorless, as far as Magnus is concerned, but he’s a good friend. He goes out jewelry shopping when Magnus asks, and listens when Magnus talks, and only puts up token resistance when Magnus sees a display of mannequins with spring scarves wrapped around their necks in a store window, passes it by, and then doubles back to drag them inside.

The scarf, at least, Alec will appreciate. Magnus tucks it around his neck, just under his scent glands, and focuses on calming the lingering turmoil in his scent. He can do this one small thing, and maybe, soon, Alec will tell him what’s wrong.

***

Alec hums, tugging at his tie so it’ll lay flat against his chest. The wrinkle of the knotted fabric isn’t sitting right—he sighs and pulls it loose, going to tie it again. He leans in close to the vanity mirror, focusing on the cloth in his hands. 

…He refuses to look at the door to the guest bedroom visible in the mirror behind him.

It’s practical, he thinks, as he finishes with the tie and adjusts his jacket. It’s date night—he can’t go and sit in the semi-permanent nest set up in the guest room because he’ll wrinkle his nice suit. That’s it, that’s all—it’s decidedly _not_ because he has a feeling if he gets in the nest right now he won’t get out again. Not because the longing has gotten so bad that he has to avoid the nursery in the Institute, and the Lair that Magnus set up to keep the warlock children and their caretakers safe once upon a time. Not because there is one thing missing, one thing he’ll never have.

He’s distracted from his thoughts, turning to the bedroom door as Magnus sweeps in, a flurry of magic and clothes and—is that a bag of take-out?

“Did you forget we’re supposed to go out tonight?” Alec asks, pressing a kiss to Magnus’s lips. The thrilling _zing_ of magic floods through him, setting the little hairs on his arms on end. When he pulls back Magnus is _staring_ at him—he has this expression on his face like he’s trying to pick Alec apart, like he’s trying to _understand_ something. Alec almost balks under the intensity in his eyes, unsure what’s showing in his own face. Does he look like he’s unhappy? Is he not showing enough gratitude?

…Whatever it is that Magnus sees, whatever is in Alec’s face, it must solidify his resolve because Magnus strokes a fond hand down Alec’s tie—still lopsided, though not for lack of trying—and says, “I didn’t forget, darling. Just thought you might like to stay in tonight.”

Without his permission, Alec’s eyes flit over Magnus’s shoulder to the guest room door, and he could kick himself when Magnus’s eyes go soft and a little sad, as if Alec’s desire to nest is an indicator that something is wrong. It’s not, it’s the opposite, Alec wants to tell him that _so bad_ —that it’s _because_ his life is perfect that he wants something more—but he can’t.

It doesn’t matter, because the next moment Magnus has snapped them both into comfy pajamas and is sweeping him up in a princess carry, hefting up Alec’s not-petite frame like it’s nothing. Magnus’s pajama collar is turned up, hiding his neck from view, but his grin is more than enough to have Alec laughing as Magnus takes him across the hall and toward the nest.

“I bought you something,” Magnus says, when they’re nestled down amid the blankets and clothes that make up the nest. He then flips down his collar, revealing a light, airy scarf wrapped around his neck.

Alec can’t help it—he lights up, delighted, as Magnus unwinds it and hands it over. He presses the fabric to his lips, inhaling. It smells _so good_. Like Magnus, all smoky and fresh and strong. Alec raises his eyes to find Magnus smiling down at him, and Alec wants to sweep him off his feet and cover him in kisses and carry his babies—

The thought knocks him sideways, and he nearly growls at himself. He presses down the frustration before it can come through in his scent, focusing instead on weaving the new scarf into the nest with the others. He should be happy with this—with the fact that he can spend his heats with the man he loves, and that he can nest whenever he wants to, and that Magnus encourages all of his omega instincts. He can lie in his nest together with his mate, eating Thai food and cuddling and, if they both so happen to be in the mood for it, enjoying his beta mate knotting him late into the night.

He can pretend that he’s not coming apart at the seams with want.

***

Magnus isn’t there for every one of Alec’s physicals. He’s never had a reason to—Alec can handle them on his own, and there’s never been anything severely wrong before. This one, however… well. There’s something in Magnus, some obscured instinct, that tells him he shouldn’t miss it.

It happens on a tuesday afternoon. Magnus should really be double-checking the warding on the Lair, but he instead makes time to spend a few hours at the Institute with Alec. He rationalizes it as an excuse to watch Alec—young and strong, a shadowhunter in his prime—stretching and running laps and everything else a shadowhunter physical entails. Alec is perfectly delicious, his scent bright and clean as he sits on the exam table afterward, letting the medic take his pulse and listen to his lungs. Magnus doesn’t pay much attention to the questions the medic is asking… not until he notices the medic’s eyes flitting between them, clearly having addressed a question to them both.

“I’m sorry, my very handsome mate is shirtless right now. Could you repeat the question?” Magnus asks. Alec flushes bright.

“I was just asking if you are sexually active,” the medic says, a knowing smile on her face.

Alec coughs. “I—yes. We are.”

“I see. And do you have any plans to carry a child?”

“Ah, that’s… not a possibility,” Magnus says, wondering how on earth they managed to stumble on a medic who is either unaware that Magnus is a warlock or that warlocks are infertile. He glances over at Alec, wondering if this is as awkward for him as it is for Magnus, but the moment his eyes alight on Alec the omega cuts his gaze away, shifting uncomfortably where he sits.

Ah. There it is. It all clicks together. 

Magnus feels his face fall, watching as the medic goes on about donors and windows of fertility and how now is the time in which to do it, if they’re going to do it at all. Alec is looking up at her, his face carefully neutral as he nods along, but Magnus can see it now—he can _see_ it, _all_ of it, _everything_. The whole shape of _‘it’_ comes clear all at once. 

…Why did it have to be the one thing Magnus can’t snap into existence?

They leave the appointment a few minutes later, Alec sliding his shirt back on over his runes. He speaks first, a few seconds later. “I’m sorry,” he says, and there is a contained explosion in his voice, a guilt creeping into his scent.

Magnus swallows, his eyes suddenly tearing up. It isn’t fair. It just—it’s not _fair_. His heart is _breaking_ —for Alec, for him, for the family they can’t have. They can adopt, of course… they can get a donor. But Alec wants to carry _his_ baby, and Magnus knows that while the other avenues for becoming parents will be fulfilling it still won’t be the _same_. Especially not for an omega who was denied every instinct growing up and who is just now, _finally_ , learning how good it feels to indulge.

“I didn’t mean to bring it up,” Alec is saying now—clearly taking Magnus’s silence the wrong way. “I know it’s painful for you, knowing—but I—just—”

He gestures hopelessly, coming up to the door of his office, avoiding Magnus’s eyes. Magnus takes the flailing hand, twining their fingers together. He waits until Alec has stopped trying to explain, his lips closing in a frown, before he says, “Darling, this isn’t your fault. I’m so, so sorry that you have to bear this burden with me.” _Sorry that I couldn_ _’t be someone else_ , he doesn’t say. _Sorry that I can_ _’t give you everything you want. Sorry that I’m selfish and I want you to stay despite that._

But Alec won’t let it lie like that. “Keyword: with you,” he says, the frown only growing deeper, his eyes rising to meet Magnus’s own with an intensity that makes Magnus ache. “It’s only because of you that I want this, Magnus. I wouldn’t want this if it was anyone else. You make me so _stupidly_ happy that I feel like I need to scream it from the rooftops, some days.”

Magnus blinks the last traces of tears from his eyes, the corner of his lips rising in a smirk. “That was quite poetic, darling. Have you been practicing that?”

“Only a little,” Alec says, brushing the thought away. “I just… I want you to understand how much you mean to me. If I could have everything with you, I would. In a heartbeat. Because I love all of you, flaws and weird biology and everything.”

It’s a beautiful sentiment. Passionate words. And the look in Alec’s eyes… god. Magnus could happily drown in that look, accepting their fate as he slips under the surface. He _would_ have drowned, in fact, if it weren’t for the _idea_ that has started the gears in his head turning.

“What are you thinking?” Alec asks, thumbs massaging the backs of Magnus’s hands, blue eyes burning as they watch him.

“…Hm. I’m thinking I should go visit my dear Biscuit,” Magnus says.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers!


End file.
